Playing Piano
by The Author 1945
Summary: Israel is trying to learn to play piano. His uncle, Austria, helps him out, but is a bit too strict and Israel is having some trouble learning. Author-series. One-shot.


Hello, guys, I'm the Author 1945, read me, fav me, love me, review me! And I'm starting to think we should start calling this 'German Month.' Seriously, the last five or six stories have been Germany/Israel centered! Well, Germany is obviously in this one but now we have Austria coming in as well. Lets see how out favorite aristocrat is doing teaching Izzy to play piano.

**_WARNING!: BEFORE YOU READ THIS BE SURE TO READ MY STORIES IN ORDER OR YOU WONT UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON! TO GET MY STORIES IN ORDER JUST CLICK MY NAME, THE AUTHOR 1945, AND LOOK UNDER 'MY STORIES_**!

Enjoy!

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"No, no, no!"

Germany perked up his ears as he heard the oh-so familiar cries of frustration from his elder brother, Austria. He sighed and turned on his heel, curiously heading in the direction of the yell to see what was irking his ally now.

"Let's take it from the top!"

The order from the Austrian was immediately followed by an out-of-tune piano melody. Germany paused to arch a curious eyebrow. Austria, he knew, would never play anything out of tune, so he must have been yelling at somebody else playing piano. The German quickened his pace, curiosity peaked.

As he entered the living room he spotted Austria sitting at the piano beside a young nation clad in white. The chibi nation was none other than Israel, sitting on top of several books as a stool to reach the keys of the piano, looking rather stressed out as his uncle towered over him, wagging his finger at the boy like a cross librarian.

"You're hopeless!" the Austrian declared irately, "you'll never learn to play anything at this rate! When your people were here, many were excellent musicians, do them proud and play well!"

The boy went red with shame and humiliation, hanging his head slightly. His blue eyes then blazed and he cried, "I'm doing the best that I can, Uncle Austria," he then sunk down in his chair a bit and mumbled, "maybe you're not teaching right…"

Austria's eyes blazed and he slapped the boy's wrist, not hard enough to really hurt him but enough to induce pain to teach the boy a lesson about smart-mouthing adults.

However, even the small smack dealt to the boy was enough to make Germany's blood boil, his blue eyes blazed furiously and he cried, "RODERICH!"

The Austrian cringed and spun around, paling slightly when he saw his brother standing right in the archway, huffing like an angry bull. _Oh dear_, he thought worriedly, knowing that Germany hated any type of corporeal punishment when it was dealt to Israel.

Israel spun around and heaved a sigh of relief. _Thank Adonai! _he thought_, maybe with Aba here, Uncle Austria wont be as strict!_

"Ludwig," muttered Austria under his breath, "I…well you heard…I only slapped him lightly, for disciple."

Germany growled angrily and marched right up to the smaller Germanic nation. Austria only barely managed to hold in a shudder as his brother towered over him, glaring down at him murderously. For a minute the Austrian wondered what the German nation was going to do, then, without warning, Germany suddenly grabbed his brother's wrist and dealt it a harsh slap.

"OUCH!" cried Austria wringing his wrist in pain as soon as Germany released it. Germany could have done worse but still a slap, even a small one, from a powerful nation such as Germany was enough to deal a small and much weaker nation such as Austria a lot of pain.

"_I only slapped you a little bit_," said Germany sternly, "_for discipline_."

Austria sighed, "point conveyed."

"I've told you a million time not to hurt mein Schatz," Germany scolded, "what are you doing anyway? Why were you yelling at him?"

"I'm trying," explained Austria, regaining his composure and sitting back down beside the boy, "to teach my nephew some culture in the hope that he wont be like his barbarian of a Prussian uncle. More like you and I."

Germany stiffened and confessed under his breath, "in truth, Roderich, I'm trying my best to raise him so that he's _not_ like me…"

"Don't be so self-hating," ordered Austria, "the point being that I'm trying to teach Israel to play piano but he's not doing it right."

"I want to learn," said Izzy sadly, "but it's so hard!"

"Roderich, what do you expect?" asked Germany with a slight shake of the head, "he's only a child! He's not going to become Mozart on his first lesson, it would be a significant achievement for him to know how to play 'twinkle twinkle little star' at his age."

"Humph! I've tried to get him to play simpler tunes," stated Austria, "when ode to joy didn't work…"

Germany slapped his palm to his face at his brother's definition of 'simpler songs.'

"I moved on to my national anthem," said Austria, "but he still has problems getting melodies right and reading the notes!"

Germany clicked his tongue and tried to think of a way to help his son learn properly so that his Uncle would stop yelling at him. He thought back to his own time learning to play piano and his eyes brightened.

"Austria," he said, "remember when you taught me to play piano?"

Austria blinked with confusion but nodded, "ja, I do, but what does nostalgia have to do with Israel's lessons?"

"When I learned how to read notes and play correctly," he said, "you started me out with songs I already knew so well that the tune and lyrics were in my head so playing became easy. Perhaps if Israel plays a song that has a melody he already knows it'll make it easier for him to get adjusted and learn."

Austria considered this and then nodded in agreement, "ja, that could work…nephew," he turned to the young boy who smiled attentively, "is there a particular song that you know that you could play?"

"Hmmmmm," thought the boy, tapping his head, his eyes shimmered, "I know~! My national anthem, Hatikva!"

Israel sat upright and began to sing in his small, high-pitched, childish voice:

_"Kol ode balevav_

_P'nimah!_

_Nefesh Yehudi _

_Homiyah!_

_Ulfa'atey mizrach _

_Kadimah!_

_Ayin l'tzion _

_Tzofiyah!_

_Ode lo avdah tikvatenu_

_Hatikvah! Bat shnot alpayim:_

_L'hiyot am chofshi _

_B'artzenu _

_Eretz Tzion! _

_V'Yerushalayim"_

As soon as he finished the boy smiled, "Akhi always used to sing that to be before I went to bed, Hatikva means the hope."

Germany and Austria nodded, Germany smiling a very small smile.

"I know the tune to that so well, I should be able to play it if I try."

"Very well," said Austria with a nod and from there the boy freestyled it, playing Hatikva on the keys in the order he so desired to the tune of his national anthem. He played rather well in spite of the lack of direction. Austria sat looking a cross between impressed and upset, impressed with the boy's playing and upset that he was playing better without his uncle breathing down his neck.

The boy finished and then sat back, breathing a sigh of content and pride before turning to his two guardians. Germany gave a nod and said, "Very good, Schatz, _right Austria?_" He emphasized that last point as he elbowed his brother in the ribs, blue eyes flashing, warning him that he was still in trouble and he had better not disagree.

"Ooof!" said the Austrian, rubbing his sore ribcage and shooting his brother a glare before turning back to the boy. The child grinned up at him with anticipation and Austria clicked his tongue, choosing his words carefully.

"Perhaps…he muttered, "you may learn to play piano yet. You're not…completely hopeless."

Germany glowered at his brother, however the boy let out a whoop of delight at this seeming compliment, "I'm not?! Akla! Toda, Uncle Austria!"

The boy leapt up and before the Austrian could object he found his torso nearly being crushed as the young Israeli gave him an almost Italy-esque hug, smiling happily as he did so. Germany had to repress a chuckle at that, especially when he saw Austria go red in embarrassment.

"All right! All right! Affections conveyed! Get off!" ordered the Austrian once he recovered from his initial shock and embarrassment, yanking the child off of him and plopping the boy back in front of the piano. Israeli giggled and Austria took his place next to his nephew.

"Lets take it from the top, I can write out some notes to go with that tune and you can learn to read them properly, but for now, lets hear it again, except this time…"

Israel listened intently as his uncle continued to teach him the proper way to play his national anthem and Germany watched with slight amusement as Austria put the boy's hands in the correct position and continued to lecture him, this time a bit more gently.

...

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Oh, great, now Austria's being tsundre too! Anyway, explanation time!

Hatikva: Meaning 'the hope' this is the national anthem of Israel. The history of it and the melody is a little garbled (and by a little I mean gave-the-Author-a-headache-as-she-was-researching- it level.) The lyrics were adapted from the poem 'Tikvateynu (our hope') written by Naphtali Imber in 1877 and the melody came from an Italian song 'La Mantovana.' Here's the English translation of the modern version that Israel sung:

As long as deep in the heart,  
The soul of a Jew yearns,  
And forward to the East  
To Zion, an eye looks  
Our hope will not be lost,  
The hope of two thousand years,  
To be a free nation in our land,  
The land of Zion and Jerusalem.

And on a completely unrelated note:

Something wrong with my fanfic account?: Hey, guys, if anybody knows how to solve this please tell me. For some reason I stopped getting e-mails from Fanfiction for when I update a story or somebody reviews, I still check but its such a hassle without the emails. I tried to email the fanfiction website for help but there's been no response. If anyone else has had a similar problem and figured it out please tell me! Thanks!

Until then, (Schwartzenegar voice,) I'll be back!


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